


How Convenient

by huffle_puffle_pow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Convenience Store, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Lance, Does that make sense?, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Gay Keith, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, actually most definitely, also lance works at a convenience store, if that wasn't obvious, keith's a mechanic, let's go my dudes, let's go with yes, mutual idiots, nonbinary pidge, probably drugs/alcohol reference, shiro's death inside, third person but alternating povs, this is exciting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-03-05 09:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13385214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffle_puffle_pow/pseuds/huffle_puffle_pow
Summary: Because college sucks and he's broke, Lance winds up working at the Comet-Mart, a convenience store that may or may not be the death of him. It pays decently and since it's never busy, he can study and attempt to be a good student. So things are all fine and good, that is until some dude with a mullet and a bad attitude decides to come in and be a complete jerk.





	1. Chapter 1

Believe it or not, attempting to study for a physics test while 80's hits are blaring through outdated speakers is extremely difficult. At least for Lance. 

After reading the same exact sentence for the 14th time, Lance gives up, closing the textbook and removing it from the counter. It's 11h31, which means it's almost time to close up, which means it's almost time to go home and attempt to study at least a little bit before he falls asleep.

Lance leaves his post at the counter in favour of mopping the floors, swearing to himself. Why does he have to work this shift? Why does the college student have to work the late shift? Why not that shady dude, whatever his name is? Why not literally anyone else? He has a test tomorrow for quiznak's sake. 

The questionable liquid in the bucket sloshes about as he wheels it to the center of the store. It smells like a combination of bleach and dish soap, which isn't a particularly wonderful smell, but whatever, Lance hardly smells it anymore. Or at least that's what he tells himself.

He spins lazily around the isles with the mop, humming along to "Physical", which is currently playing from the crackly speakers that he's slowly grown to love. 

Lance can't remember why exactly he wanted to work here in the first place, it certainly wasn't his first decision but he needed a job to help him through university, and this was convenient (pun intended). He loves his parents too much to let them pay for his whole schooling, so he can deal with the long, late hours. However, the cheesy 80's hits are awesome and he's allowed to study when there are no customers, so he can't complain too much. 

He's currently in his second year at Garrison University and well, barely making it through said year. With work and studying and trying to get to classes on time and sleeping at least a few hours, it's a challenge. But he's determined not to let his family down. After all the support they gave him even though he had to move away, it would break his heart to have failed them.

So here he is, at the Comet-Mart, working from 7 p.m.-12 a.m. to pay for his ridiculously expensive schooling. Because what else would he rather be doing, besides y'know, anything else?

As Olivia Newton-John's voice fades out and the next song loads, Lance hears the chime above the door, which he forgot to lock. He's just about to tell the person that they're closed, when he looks up. The guy who just walked in looks fucking wrecked. There's a deep cut stretching from his jawline to right below his eye and his jacket is hanging off one shoulder. And is that. . . a mullet? Who the hell still has a mullet in this day and age?

The guy stalks straight towards the freezer in the back, paying no attention the employee standing in the middle of the store, gawking at him.

Lance puts the mop back in the rusting, hazmat-yellow bucket and walks behind the counter as mullet-man walks up to it. The guy drops a bag of ice and a Diet Coke into the counter, fishing into his pocket for what Lance can guess is either his wallet or a knife. He seriously hopes it's the former.

"Rough night Mullet-Man?" Lance jokes, smiling sympathetically as he rings up the ice and drink. 

"Excuse me?" the guy says, looking up to glare at Lance with piercing. . .are his eyes violet? That's a thing? 

"Sorry, nothing, you look wrecked though, man. What happened?" Lance says, sliding the cash off the counter and giving mullet-man his change.

"None of your business." the guy says, grabbing the ice and Coke off the counter and walking towards the door. He slaps the ice onto his cheek and Lance can see the back of his body visibly tense.

When the door chimes shut, Lance pretends to go back to his mopping, but really just watches mullet-man as he just stands right outside the doorway. He watches as he leans back against the large windows at the front of the store, making a dull thinking sound. By now, Lance isn't pretending to mop and is just openly staring at this guy who looks like he just fell off a bridge, he can't help it.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't feel bad, the guy looked in rough shape. Extremely rough shape. Whatever the hell happened to him, well it couldn't have been good. It had to be a fight, right? How else does one get a giant slash across their face? Unless he fell? Really hard? On a piece of glass? Maybe?

Without thinking, he heads towards the front door, towards random-mullet-dude. 

Gently pushing open the door, he sees the guy jump at the sound of the overheard bell, spinning around to look wide-eyed at Lance. 

"Dude, chill, just wanted to see if you were okay." Lance says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. 

The guy just glares at him 

"I'm fine." He spits out, taking the ice off his face and gesturing to the gash, which has now swollen around the edges.

"You clearly aren't. Seriously you should get that checked out, it's going to get infected, you probably need stitches or something." 

The guy continues to glare at him, his eyes boating into Lance's with a terrifying intensity. 

"I'm fine, it's nothing." He says, aggression clearly growing.

"I can drive you to a walk-in or something, there's one close by."

"I said I'm fine, leave me alone!" the guy snaps, anger flashing across his eyes. He spins on his heel, angrily storming off into the dark parking lot.

"Fine, Hulk Hogan! Be an asshole, see if I care!" Lance yells back.

"Oh haha, never heard that one before." mullet-man shouts back.

Lance, grabs the door handle, slamming it behind him as he stalks into the store. 

"Who the hell does that guy think he is? We were closed, I took pity on him. He should be thankful. And I offered to fucking help him! Also, a mullet, seriously? He looks like one of those greasy rebels from some old movie! Who the hell still has a mullet!" Lance mutters angrily as he angrily grabs the mop, sloshing the solution is the bucket around as he does so.

"Whatever." Lance grumbles to himself as he finishes mopping the other half of the store, pissed that some stranger got under his skin the easily. He stores the mop and bucket in the molding utility closet and flicks off the lights.

He heads behind the counter to lock the register, grabbing his books and putting them into his worn blue backpack as he goes about his closing routine. He hits the stop button a little too aggressively on the stereo three times before the music comes to an actual stop, then heads to the front of the store to lock up.

It's relatively chilly as he heads toward his car in the parking lot, making him zip up his hoodie as he attempts unlocking the drivers side of the car. His car is, well, the car equivalent of the Comet-Mart's stereo. 

It was originally a robin's egg blue, like 20 years ago, but now with years of age its paint has faded and chipped away. Despite that, Lance adores it and has so creatively named it Blue.

The inside of Blue isn't much to look at: beige leather seats, fast food wrappers from late night food runs with his roommate, Hunk, littering the floor, and a small model of Neptune hanging off the rear-view mirror. 

As Lance starts the car, again a little too aggressively, and pulls out of the dark, empty parking lot, "Jessie's Girl" starts playing off the radio station and Lance can't help but laugh a little to himself. He can't escape the store's music even if he tried.

Rick Springfield is asking where he can find a woman like that at 12h15 as Lance drives down the nearly empty roads, definitely not still mad about mullet-man. Definitely. He's going to have to use Rick Springfield next time he sees that mullet guy. If he does. Which he probably won't. Whatever.

* * *

Lance pulls into the parking lot behind his apartment at 12h45, absolutely exhausted. He half-heartedly grabs for his bag, dragging it and himself out of the car. His and Hunk's apartment is on the fifth floor, and usually he would take the stairs, but he's just done. He still has to study for his physics test tomorrow and try to sleep. 

He unlocks the door to his apartment, stepping in to find his roommate passed out on the couch, surrounded by open textbooks and scattered papers. 

Lance chuckles a little to himself, walking over to the worn out sofa and gently poking Hunk's shoulder. 

"Buddy, Hunk, wake up, you can't sleep on the couch again. You have a bed for a reason." Lance whispers.

Hunk groans, sitting up, and then groans loader as the book on his chest falls to the floor.

"Hey man, did you just get home?" he yawns, retying his headband.

"Just now, you're good."

"How was work, dude?"

"It was fine, till this freaking mullet-man went and fucked it up." Lance says, laughing.

"Oh man, dude, you gotta tell me about this, I should make us some tea." Hunk grins, slowly pushing himself off the couch and making his way to the kitchen.

"You're the best." Lance laughs as he follows Hunk into the kitchen, launching into the story about weirdo mullet-man who looked like he'd gotten hit by a train.

"Man, I sorta feel bad for the guy. I mean, from what you told me, sounds like he needed stitches." Hunk says after Lance finishes ranting.

"Yeah, but he was jerk!" Lance says, moving his hands around as he talks, "Like I tried asking what happened and even offered help and he just freaked out on me!"

Hunk just nods sagely, taking his and Lance's empty Star Wars mugs and placing them to the side of the overflowing mountain of dirty dishes that's accumulated in their sink.

"While this mullet-man sounds like a piece of work, it was a probably just one time thing. Also you can be a bit intense sometimes." Hunk says, laughing as Lance dramatically puts his hand to his chest.

"Excuse you, I am NOT dramatic!" Lance huffs, turning his face away.

"Uh huh, sure, buddy." Hunk says, chuckling.

"Also, as much as I'd love to stay up, I have a class at 8 that I can't afford to be asleep during." 

"Yeah, man, I get it. Go sleep." Lance gives him a thumbs up and Hunk makes his way out of the kitchen and towards his bedroom.

At the kitchen table, Lance slouches in his seat, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It's past one, he has a test tomorrow and he has to sleep at least a little. He can't pull another all-nighter, it would probably kill him. 

He drags his feet over to the couch, turning on the T.V. and muting it as he takes out his textbook, flipping to his bookmarked page. He doesn't want to study. He doesn't want to be awake at one in the morning trying to get through at least a page of his textbook. He doesn't want to be holding a grudge against a stranger with a freaking mullet. Which he isn't. At all. That guy was stupid.

* * *

He winds up reading a full chapter (to his surprise), before his eyes start to close and he feels the familiar tug of sleep. He can just get up early and finish the rest of it. Probably. Hopefully.

Pushing himself off the couch and clicking off the table side lamp, he wanders into his room, kicking off his jeans as he goes. He reaches down to pick up his phone, setting an alarm for 6 a.m. which he knows he'll probably ignore, but whatever. 

Flopping down onto his mattress, and draping his blanket across himself, he can already feel everything shutting off. 

He didn't realize it until now, but he has "Jessie's Girl" stuck in his head for some reason. 

As he drifts off to sleep, the lyrics are slowly bouncing around his skull.

You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl  
I wish that I had Jessie's girl  
I want Jessie's girl

Fricking mullet.


	2. Chapter 2

Keith didn't intend to be slashed across the face with an army knife, it just kinda . . . happened.

So here he is, making his way home on his bike, in the middle of the night, and feeling a VERY strong burn across where the gash is. 

The real question should be, where's the nearest emergency room, but he's more concerned about how the fuck he's going to hide this from his brother, Shiro. 

It's not like he can just wear a large scarf to cover it. It's not like he can say he just fell. Shiro wouldn't believe it for a second.

And fuck does it sting. The guy got him good, he'll admit it. If his guard wasn't down, he would've dodged it, or at least blocked it. 

The guy tried to strike him twice actually, the first time Keith wasn't too lucky. The second, he managed to quickly step to the side and grab the guy's weapon, and shove him back. 

From there it was a bit of a blur. His anger got the best of him, yeah, but the guy fucking had it coming. He slashed his face open, he couldn't expect Keith to just stand there. 

So yeah, Keith may have a small anger management issue. But it's nowhere near as bad as it was when he was a kid. 

When he was in primary school, he was shorter than most of the kids in his class, making him an easy target for playground bullies. Except he wasn't an easy target the second they tried anything. He was small, but quick as hell and powerful.

Eventually, his teachers realized what was going on and sent Keith to anger management classes. Which he hated with a burning passion. But after being told to count to ten and take deep breaths for the thousandth time, Keith got things under control.

He still had his moments though. Hence beating the shit out of the drunk who lurched at him with a fricking Swiss Army knife.

* * *

He ends up driving around the block, trying to come up with a plausible story as to why he has a giant gash across his jaw. But after the third loop, he gives up, turning around his bike, dubbed Red, and driving towards home.

* * *

And yeah, Shiro is pissed.

In his defense, Keith had tried avoiding him and going straight to his room, but Shiro had caught his arm with his metal prosthetic. The second he felt the warm metal enclose his forearm, he knew he was screwed.

Keith slowly turns around, bracing himself, and meeting his older brother's unblinking eyes.

Shiro lets go of his arm, before yelling.

"Keith what the fuck happened?!"

"Shiro, it's nothing, seriously. . ." Keith starts.

"Oh really? That weird, because to me it looks like you just were attacked by a fucking ninja!"

Keith opens and closes his mouth, trying to form words, but doesn't know what to say.

Shiro grabs his arm and drags him back towards the door, grabbing his car keys off the counter.

"Shiro where are we going?" 

"To the ER because my brother's an idiot."

* * *

"So what the fuck happened?" Shiro says as soon as they're in the car.

"I was leaving the bar and some drunk came out of nowhere and attacked me."

"That doesn't explain why you look like a lion mauled you."

"He had a knife." 

"So you thought the best idea would be to charge at it? Face first?" 

"I- well-" Keith sputters.

Shiro raises an eyebrow, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Well?" he asks, sounding slightly amused.

"Fuck you." Keith grumbles, slouching back in his seat.

Shiro laughs, before his face turns serious again.

"But seriously, you're going to need stitches. You know that right?" he says, glancing over at Keith, who just glares in response.

"I doubt it. I'm fine." he says, ignoring the numbness gradually spreading up his face.

"Mhm, sure." Shiro responds, flicking on his turn signal and pulling into the hospital's parking lot.

Keith lifts a hand to his face, gently pressing two fingers to his jaw. He pulls it back, only to find it covered in a glimmering layer of crimson. 

* * *

Shiro was right. He needed stitches. Unfortunately.

And here's the thing, Keith and hospitals aren't the best of friends. It's not that he hates them, they just freak him out.

So as he's being repeatedly stabbed with a surgical needle, he tries to think about literally anything other than the bright, chemical lights and the stench of antiseptic.

But that's a little hard when he remembers literally nothing after shoving the knife wielding drunk onto the ground. 

He hasn't had blackouts from his anger in years but tonight he just kinda let it happen. His mind went into overdrive, his fists clenched, and he let the anger burn like wildfire.

The guy's probably fine though. Probably doesn't have to get his fricking face stitched up because of a pocket knife.

* * *

He's given painkillers which he's expected to take daily until they see him back to get the stitches removed. He knows he won't take them but accepts them anyways, glaring at the little orange bottle.

All in all, besides his face being extremely numb and tingling, it's not too bad. He has to deal with them for four days and then can get them removed. From there it's just trying not to reopen the wound. He can do that. 

Probably.

* * *

Keith comes out of the medical wing to find Shiro sitting in the waiting room reading. . . People magazine? Really Shiro?

His older brother stands up when he sees him, smiling softly.

"Guess we're twins now." he says, pointing to the faint scar running across the bridge if his nose.

Keith laughs along with Shiro although he feels a small pang in his heart. War injuries and drunk guys attacking you are two very different things. One is much, much more honorable. He chooses not to voice this thought, choosing to instead put it aside as he walks with Shiro to the front desk.

* * *

On the walk back to Shiro's car, Keith's previously silent phone starts going off like crazy. 

"What the hell?" Keith mutters, taking out his phone to see 29 new texts and 2 missed calls all from Pidge.

Keith looks over at Shiro who is being suspiciously quiet and looking anywhere but at Keith.

"Shiro," Keith growls, "by any chance did you tell Pidge what happened tonight?" 

"Ummmm. . . maybe?" Shiro says, scratching the back of his neck and awkwardly laughing.

"Shiro I swear to-" Keith is cut off as his phone rings again, Pidge's glaring face face popping up on screen. 

Keith opens the car door and presses the phone reluctantly to his ear, only to be met by garbled screeching on the other end.

"WHEN SHIRO CALLED ME AND TOLD ME SOME DRUNK GUY FUCKING SLICED YOUR FACE OPEN I DIDN'T-" Pidge yells from the other line.

"Pidge." Keith sighs.

"WHY ARE YOU STILL HANGING AROUND BARS AND GETTING INTO FIGHTS ANYWAYS?! I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T A COMPLETE MORON-"

"Pidge."

"KEITH WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL WERE YOU THINKING!! OH THAT'S RIGHT YOU WEREN'T-"

Keith glances over to see Shiro laughing hysterically and promptly flips him off.

"Pidge!!"

"Sorry," Pidge says, sounding defeated, "but what the hell, dude?"

"I know, I know. It wasn't my fault though." Keith tries.

"Mhm, yeah sure it wasn't, says the human equivalent of the red angry bird."

"Okay, first of all, Red is arguably the best angry bird, check yourself. Second, it seriously wasn't. He came out of fucking nowhere." Keith laughs as he hears Pidge squawk angrily on the other side of the line. 

"Red is NOT the best angry bird! Just because it has the same name as your stupid bike doesn't make him the best."

"My bike isn't stupid!" Keith says defiantly.

"Whatever, dude. Anyways, because you're a complete idiot, can we hang out tomorrow, Matt's not home so I can't bug him?"

"Wow, you let that go fast. But yeah, sure. How's 6h30 work?" Keith says, glancing at Shiro to check if he's fine with it. He nods, a small smile still playing across his face. It makes him look less tired Keith thinks.

"Yeah, sounds good. Also, this has not been let go. But seriously, I gotta go, about to beat this level. Don't do anything else stupid while I'm gone." they say, the sound of blasters going off in the background.

He hears the line go dead and shoves his phone back in his pocket, just as Shiro pulls into the apartments parking lot.

* * *

Keith trails after Shiro on the way up to their apartment, his face still feels weird and his legs are tired and sluggish. He seriously hates being tired.

As soon as he opens the door, Keith makes a beeline straight for his room, saying goodnight to Shiro as he closes his bedroom door behind him.

He takes off his jacket, only to realize that he still had his meds in the pockets. He puts the small bottle on his dresser, where it will most likely be gathering dust until Keith cleans his room. 

It's not that he doesn't want to get better or that he's being extremely emo about this. No, he just doesn't think the drugs are really necessary. Plus he already went through his emo phase in high school, raccoon eyeliner and everything. 

Stripping off his shirt and jeans, he climbs into his bed, and throwing his blanket over him. He faces the ceiling, trying to piece together what exactly happened before he got home and Shiro took him to the hospital, but it's just a blur. Fighting, driving, 80's music, driving.

Wait. 80's music? 

That can't be right. 

Since when does Keith listen to 80's hits? 

Shit, he must be hallucinating. 80's music, really? 

This wasn't Rocky. "Eye of the Tiger" wasn't playing dramatically in the background. 

Keith groans, rolling into his side and closing his eyes, trying to will his body into falling asleep. He feels like he's going insane.

80's music?

Seriously?

* * *

He ends up waking up at 12, which is definitely not the latest he's ever woken up, so he can deal with it. 

He can't exactly shower because of his face, so he opts for a bath, soaking in his own dirt for an hour. Keith really doesn't like bathing, it makes him feel gross, but he's not allowed to shower so he'll take what he can get. 

Shiro doesn't have classes and Keith isn't expected at Altea Motors today so they wind up just sitting in the living room, Keith reading a book and Shiro typing away on his laptop. 

They don't really talk, but the silence that settles between them is soothing. The rhythmic ticking of Shiro's keyboard allows Keith to really submerge himself into what he's reading, and shut out intruding thoughts, something he hasn't been able to do in a while.

* * *

It's about 6 as Keith digs through their cabinets looking for something edible. He really needs to go grocery shopping, the cabinets are basically empty aside from Shiro's gross workout bars the Keith refuses to even go near. 

He's about to walk back to the couch, defeated, when he sees that Shiro's phone has a new notification. Leaning over the counter to see who it's from, a wicked grin spreads across his face.

"Hey Shiro, why does your phone say that Allura's 'on her way'?" Keith says slyly, smirking as he sees Shiro's face flush.

"She wanted to have dinner. That is all. No other questions please." Shiro says, his voice jumping up an octave.

"Mhm, sureeee." Keith says, unplugging Shiro's phone and tossing it to him.

"Jesus, Keith. You can't just throw people's phones at them." Shiro says, fumbling to turn on device.

"Well too bad, I just did." Keith responds, laughing as Shiro types his response to Allura, a huge grin across his face.

"Are you laughing at me?" Shiro asks.

"Nope, just your face."

"Wow, ouch. That hurt a little."

"Not as much as it hurts to watch you two dance around each other." Keith laughs harder as Shiro's face turns an even darker shade of pink.

Just then a knock cuts through the apartment, making Shiro jump and almost chuck his phone at the wall. Keith laughs and swings open the door to be met with an absolutely stunning smile that belongs to an even more stunning woman, aka Allura, aka the girl of Shiro's dreams.

"Keith hel– what on Earth happened to your face?!" Allura gasps, grabbing Keith's face with her perfectly manicured hands and turning it to get a better look.

"Allura, it's nothing, I'm fine." Keith sighs, attempting to move his face out of her hands, but her grip is tight.

"Shiro! How could you let this happen?!" she says, glaring at Shiro who is holding his hands up as he walks towards the doorway.

"Hey, this is all Keith's fault." Shiro says, grinning as Keith gives him the death stare.

"Seriously, Allura, I'm fine. You can stop worrying." Keith says, still struggling to get out of Allura's grasp.

"Too bad," she says, bringing him into a bone crushing hug, "I'm worrying." 

If she wasn't extremely intimidating and the love of his brother's life, he would be protesting. But as she is both, he tolerates it.

"As much as I'm loving this totally comfortable hug right now, I have to go see Pidge." Keith strains.

Allura's lets go, her platinum hair bouncing over her shoulders in what Keith can only describe as "goddess-like". Even Keith, as gay as he is, can see the absolute beautiful creature that she is. No wonder Shiro is as obsessed with her as he is.

Keith returns to the kitchen to grab his keys off the counter and heads towards the door, saluting them on his way out.

"Have fun, you two!" he calls in a sing-song voice, cackling as Shiro throws a pillow at the closing door. 

* * *

He barely even has to knock before the door to the Holt's apartment bursts open. He's met with an armful of Pidge as they securely wrap themselves around Keith.

"Hey gremlin, good to see you." Keith chuckles, hugging Pidge back.

"It's been too longggg." Pidge whines into his shirt.

"Not my fault you have an ungodly amount of AP classes." 

"I don't have that many."

"Okay, sure." Keith says sarcastically 

"Whateverrrr, can we hang out now?" Pidge's voice is extremely muffled.

"I would, but currently I have a lemur attached to me." Keith says, attempting to swat Pidge away.

They easily slide away, maneuvering around until Keith is practically giving them a piggyback ride. 

Going with it, Keith hoists them up and carries them into the room. 

"Wait wait wait, I need to close the door!" Pidge says, attempting to turn Keith around like an animal.

"Pidge, ow!" Keith yelps as he's being dragged backward towards the door. 

Pidge cackles, and Keith dumps them onto the couch. 

"So what're we doing Pidge?" Keith says, plopping down next to them on the couch.

"Alien documentaries?" they say, waggling their eyebrows.

"Alien documentaries." Keith says, handing Pidge the remote.

"Good, cause I already made popcorn. It's in the kitchen." Pidge says, distractedly scrolling through Netflix.

When Keith emerges from the kitchen, Pidge has already started a documentary that they've seen at least fifty times already.

Keith sits on the opposite end of the couch, placing the extraordinarily large popcorn bowl Matt had gotten Pidge for their birthday last year on the table.

"So Keith?" Pidge asks, swinging their legs so they're across his lap.

"So Pidge?" Keith says, leaning across their legs to grab a handful of popcorn.

"What's going on?"

"Hmm?" Keith hums around a mouthful of popcorn.

"What is new in the wonderful world of Keith?"

"Literally nothing. Well, besides this." Keith says, gesturing to his face.

"You're no fun." Pidge whines, kicking him.

"Oh well sorry that being slashed with a knife isn't interesting enough for you." Keith says sarcastically, flicking Pidges flailing legs.

"Whatever." they roll their eyes dramatically.

"What about you? What's been going on in Pidge's always exciting life." Keith questions, nudging their legs with his elbow.

"Oh so many great things." Pidge deadpans.

"Seriously, and you were mad at me for having nothing to share?" Keith says offendedly.

"What can I say? Homework's a bitch." they shrug, throwing a piece of popcorn into the air and catching it in their mouth.

"That sucks." Keith replies, not really knowing what else to say. He's a college dropout, he can't really complain about that stuff.

"Sure does, but hey, you're here, so it's not all bad." Pidge smiles.

"Awww, did you miss me?" Keith coos, laughing as Pidge shoots him a glare.

"Maybe. . ." they pout.

"Awww you do love me! I knew it!" Keith laughs as Pidge throws popcorn pieces at him.

"Remind me never to be nice to you again." Pidge groans.

"Seriously though, I missed you too. It's good to see you." Keith says, squeezing Pidge's legs reassuringly.

They watch in silence after, just enjoying the comfortable silence that has settled. 

Keith grows a little suspicious of how quiet Pidge is being until he realizes they feel asleep. Figuring they probably haven't slept in days, he lets it go, deciding to finish the documentary.

* * *

About two and a half terrible alien documentaries later, Pidge finally stirs. They push up their glasses into their hair, rubbing their eyes sleepily with the heel of their hands.

"Oh fuck, how long was I out?" they ask groggily, yawning and stretching their arms above their head.

"Like two documentaries, but you were just so cute so I let you be." Keith says, grinning as Pidge throws a pillow at him.

"Don't call me cute you. . . you spork." Pidge responds.

"Did you just call me a spork?" Keith asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No. . . Maybe. Yes. Shut up." Pidge snaps, glaring at him as he laughs.

"Oh man, this is a whole new version of sleep deprived Pidge." Keith laughs as Pidge sends him a glare.

"Whatever man," they say, throwing their hands up in exasperation, "school's hard, okay?"

"I know, I'm just saying. Would it really hurt you to sleep a little?" 

Pidge lets out a defeated sigh, slumping deeper into the couch.

Keith starts to push himself off the couch, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl and heading to the kitchen.

"Hey Keith?" Pidge asks a little tentatively.

"Yeah?" Keith responds, poking his head out from the other room.

"So Matt hasn't been home a lot because of secret work I don't get to know about. And well that means he can't drive me home from school anymore. So I was wondering-" 

"Of course." 

"Wait, but I didn't even ask yet."

"I'm assuming you're going to ask for rides from school, yeah?" Pidge just nods.

"Well then, of course."

"Really?"

"Um, yeah? Did you really think I'd say no?"

"A little bit. . ."

"Wow, Pidge." Keith puts his hand to his chest "I'm a little wounded you'd think that." 

"Sure you are." they deadpan.

* * *

So starting three days from now, Keith will be Pidges ride from school. Which he can deal with, Pidge is great. He has work, sure, but Coran loves Pidge so he's sure he'll be able to work around it.

And as much as he'd probably deny it, he really did miss Pidge. They're in college now, so Keith knows he shouldn't expect them to be constantly pestering him like they used to, but he can't really help but feel a little saddened by it.

* * *

The thoughts start to come flooding after he leaves the apartment. The bad ones. The bad, bad, bad ones. "Why is this happening now?" he wonders, increasing his pace as he walks towards the stairwell.

As soon as he's out of the building, he heads straight for his bike. "I have to get out of here." he whispers to himself, although he knows very well it's not the building that's causing this. He's just broken. 

Keith swings his leg over his bike, starting the engine and taking deep breaths as Red's roar fills the dark air. Once at the apartment's exit, he reaches to flick on his left signal, but hesitates when small voice in the back of his head starts whispering.

"Turn right, Keith."

Right would take him to a local bar. Where he could just breathe, and forget who he is for a little while. 

"You know you want to."

Blinking hard, he flicks on the left turn signal, speeding in the direction of home. 

"Keith, home is where you're supposed to go." he repeats softly, a small montra of sorts.

Go home.  
Go home.   
Go home.  
Shiro's at home, he's here for you.   
He'll get it.   
He'll understand.  
Just go home.

"Sorry." he whispers as he does a u-turn in the middle of the empty street.

Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. This was depressing. Keith is a mess.  
> The next chapter will be less depressing, I swear!
> 
> Also sorry if this chapter's a little dull, I wanted to have solid stage before I got the plot ball rolling. The next chapter will actually have some plot in it, I promise.  
> Also also, please leave any thoughts or constructive criticism in the comments, I'd really appreciate it :)  
> Thank you so much for reading ^-^


	3. Chapter 3

The fact that Lance didn't fail his physics test was an absolute miracle.    
  
First of all, he woke up 25 minutes before class started.   
  
Second of all, he had forgotten literally everything he'd learned on the test.   
  
Third of all, Lance is one of the worst test takers in history.   
  
The clock ticked tauntingly and he stared at his blank paper, trying to rack his brain for anything, absolutely anything.   
  
Eventually, a few things clicked into place and he dragged himself through the rest of the test, inch by inch.   
  
It was a miracle Lance even managed to finish the test. And it was in times like these, Lance really wanted to drop out of school and go become a hermit.    
  
He hated the tests, the hours, the classes, the homework, how far from home he was, and the way this school was slowly sucking the all life out of him.    
  
Things would be so much easier if he just found a cave and lived the remainder of his days as a creepy cave hermit.    
  
But alas, he would never in a million years do that. School was hell but Lance new it was important. He could suck it up. He just needed to keep going.   
  
He could do that.   
  
Probably.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
The rest of Lance's day dragged by slowly, he walked to class, sat down, tried to pay attention, tried to take notes, walked to his next class.

 

Rinse and repeat.   
  
There was something in the air today that just made everything go by four times slower than usual. Even his walking seemed to be in slow motion.   
  
Lucky for him, the day’s classes were done by 3 and he didn't have to work till later, so he could go home and relax. Or stress about his classes the next day.    
  
Probably a bit of both.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
Tuesday - 15h31   
**Group chat** : the powerpuff girls    
  
**cinnamon_hunk:** lance do you want me to bring home the day old pastries again?    
**all_bi_myself:** um yes?    
**all_bi_myself:** y wouldnt i?    
**cinnamon_hunk:** just wanted to check    
  
**all_bi_myself:** wheres the gremlin?    
**all_bi_myself:** wouldve thought theyd want in on free food   
**cinnamon_hunk:** they're probably in class   
  
**pidgeon:** as much as i would love to join you two, i actually have friends and and a life to attend to.    
**all_bi_myself:** ;(   
**all_bi_myself:** who could possibly be more important than us????   
**pidgeon:** keith.

**all_bi_myself:** wrong, no ones more important    
**cinnamon_hunk:** lance let pidge have a life   
**pidgeon:** thank you hunk   
**cinnamon_hunk:** :D   
**all_bi_myself:** also who tf is keith???   
**pidgeon:** childhood friend. his brother's friends with matt   
**all_bi_myself:** why dont you ever tell us these things   
**pidgeon:** you never asked.   
**all_bi_myself:** ;(   
**cinnamon_hunk:** i gtg guys but have fun pidge and lance i'll see you later   
**all_bi_myself:** k   
**pidgeon:** bye   
  
  
*    *    *    
  
  
When Lance gets home, the first thing he does is turn on the shitty stereo in his apartment.    
  
He loves this stereo about as much as he loves the one from the Comet Mart. It's old and refuses to play anything other than the CD that has been in it since they got it. It's been a little over a year since they first brought it home and they've never been able to get the disk out, so it can only play the album "Arrival" by ABBA. Which Lance isn't complaining about. ABBA can do no wrong.   
  
The story of how exactly they got this stereo is a beautiful one, involving a very drunk and very confused Lance.   
  
They got the stereo during his freshman year of college.   
  
Lance had gotten invited to a party by some frat boy he had been flirting with for most of the semester. Lance is a little ashamed to admit he has forgotten his name, although he's 78% sure it started with an A. Or a T maybe. It was some stereotypical frat boy name, okay?   
  
Long story short, Lance had got drunk off his ass doing jello shots and drinking cheap beer out of red solo cups. He then thought it would be a brilliant idea to go walking home to his dorm, in the dark, completely alone.   
  
Now the next part of the story is debatable, but Lance swears that it really happened.    
  
As he was walking home, a stereo appeared out of thin air and he went toppling over it onto the ground. And no, Hunk, it hadn't already been there and he fell over it because he was drunk. It definitely appeared magically.   
  
He must've kicked the play button when he fell because all of a sudden, "Tiger" by ABBA started playing from the speakers.   
  
_ I am behind you, I'll always find you, I am the tiger. _ _   
_ _ People who fear me never go near me, I am the tiger. _ _   
_ _   
_ Lance being completely wasted, didn't realize that it was just the stereo playing a song. He started freaking out, thinking a tiger was actually chasing him.    
  
He was out of it, okay?   
  
So obviously, his first instinct was to pick up the stereo and start booking it back to his dorm. But for some mysterious reason, the music kept following him even as he sprinted through campus.    
  
He wound up pounding on him and Hunk's shared dorm, yelling how he was being chased.   
  
Hunk had let him in, and about died laughing when drunk Lance came stumbling in, wide-eyed and panicked, clutching a speaker in his arms.   
  
The rest is a little fuzzy to Lance but according to Hunk, he had hid under his desk then started rambling in both English and Spanish because the tiger was going to get him, all the while clutching the source of "the tiger" in his arms.   
  
He had only calmed down once the song changed, then proceeded to pass out on the floor, still clutching the speaker.   
  
The next morning he had woke up with a large, unforgiving hangover and a new speaker.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
Hunk came home earlier than expected and, to Lance's delight, brought about a pound worth of slightly stale cookies and muffins.    
  
Picking a blueberry muffin off the top pile, he returned to his nest of books and loose paper. Hunk made a comment about this and was met with a book being thrown at him. He easily dodged it, grinning.   
  
"You shouldn't be throwing expensive ass textbooks around."   
  
"I also shouldn't have to sit at home studying in the early afternoon, but here we are."   
  
"Here we are indeed." Hunk chuckled, pushing aside the contents of Lance's book-nest and sitting down.   
  
Lance looked down at the crumpled document in his hands, most of it was covered in doodles and questions he had wanted to ask. The margins were crammed with smudged blue planets and stars and rockets. Why was he like this? He wanted to yell at himself for not taking more notes. For not taking better notes. But instead he just pushed out a long sigh, clicking his pen and adding another bullet to a list of effects he needed to complete.   
  
"You got work tonight, dude?" Hunk said, nudging Lance's side with his elbow.   
  
"Yeah, later."   
  
"Well hey, maybe mullet-man will be there."   
  
"Maybe. Then my day can go from long and exhausting, to long, exhausting, and absolutely shit."   
  
"Seriously man? You told me he looked wrecked, I'm sure he was a little snippy for a good reason."   
  
"Yeah, whatever."   
  
"Maybe if he comes in, you can apologize."   
  
"Hunk, that is the last thing I would do." Lance snaps, staring at his notes.   
  
"You probably should though." Hunk mutters.   
  
"It wasn't even a big deal." Lance huffs, feeling a twinge of anger. He didn't care. He really, really didn't.   
  
"Alright, sure." Hunk says humorously. He pats Lance's shoulder, standing from the couch and heading to the door.   
  
"Where're you going?" Lance asks, finally looking up from his notes.   
  
"Shay's. She wants to study. Just came to drop off muffins."   
  
"I'm sure she does." Lance says, waggling his eyebrows at Hunk, who just blushes in response.   
  
"It's not like that."    
  
"Mhm, the longer you deny it, the more I know it's true." Lance says, shooting finger guns.   
  
"I'm going now," Hunk opens the door "to study. Nothing else."   
  
"Whatever you say." Lance calls after him.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
Lance somehow managed to get to work 15 minutes early despite leaving later than usual.   
  
Somehow.   
  
And of course because he got there early, the guy working thought his shift was over.   
  
So of course Lance gets to start his shift early.   
  
Of course.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
It seems like a pretty dull night.   
  
Which was fine.    
  
Lance didn't care.    
  


Except he did. A little. He couldn't put his finger on it. He'd only seen him that one night, but he kept replaying those few minutes.    
  
It was like an itch under his skin.    
  
He was pretty sure he was just mad about how the night ended. He was a nice person. And that guy was just a fucking jerk. He shouldn't be letting this get under his skin, but he couldn't help it.    
  
Pidge always called him dramatic and they were right, but this wasn't him being dramatic. It was just the brotherly instinct in him. Like a spidey sense. He knew how to help people when they were hurt. He had put bandaids on hundreds of scrapes and driven a screaming crying sibling to the hospital more than once. So when that guy came in, his brotherly antennas started twitching. Not his fault.   
  
Yeah, no. He was being dramatic.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
The rest of his shift goes by at a steady pace, but if you asked him what happened, it'd be blurred.    
  
Drunks buying booze.   
  
Studying.   
  
Awkward teenagers buying condoms.   
  
More studying.   
  
Hot guy buying a Powerade.   
  
Lance shamelessly flirting with said hot guy.   
  
Closing ritual.   
  
Tossing on a sweatshirt on his way to Blue because it was getting chilly out.   
  
Driving home on the dark, empty streets.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
The next day dragged on painfully slow, yet again. It was suffocating.    
  
Lance hated these periods in the semester. Where his teachers all decided to start assigning more and more things. It was like they all had a secret meeting on "how can we ruin our student's year".    
  
That meeting must've gone well because Lance was drowning.   
  


  
*    *    *   
  
  
On his way to public speaking class, Lance pulled his phone out of his pocket, only to be met with notifications from the group chat.   
  
Thursday - 10h12   
**Group chat:** the powerpuff girls   
  
**pidgeon:** hey can we meet at lion today?    
**pidgeon:** matt can't drive me atm so i have to wait there for my ride   
**pidgeon:** i dont want to sit there alone   
**cinnamon_hunk:** yeah sure, what time?   
**pidgeon:** 14h00??   
**cinnamon_hunk:** sure :)   
**cinnamon_hunk:** lance and i could always drive you    
**pidgeon:** no it's cool. keith said he can give me a ride   
**cinnamon_hunk:** okey, well just letting you know   
**pidgeon:** thanks :)   
  
**all_bi_myself:** wow sounds like you dont need me there ;(   
**pidgeon:** yeah you're right   
**all_bi_myself** : WOw   
**all_bi_myself:** my poor heart ;(   
**pidgeon:** kidding, sorry   
**all_bi_myself:** im wounded   
**all_bi_myself:** but ill come anyways bc i dont feel like doing my essay   
  
Lance smiled a little to himself as he slipped his phone back in his pocket.

 

  
*    *    *   
  
Lance decided not to be lazy for once and walked to the lion instead of driving.   
  
The lion was where Hunk had been working since they first started attending school at Altea. It was actually called The Lion's Café and wasn’t an animal but a small coffee shop located on campus.   
  


Lance pulled his sweatshirt sleeves over his chilled hands as he walked to the doorway. It had been getting colder lately, which broke hisheart a little. Lance loved summer. The warm sunshine, the days at the beach, the endless light. Winter was so dark. And cold.

  
Lance swung open the glass door to the shop, and was immediately met with the warm, comforting smell of espresso and cinnamon.    
  
God did he love this place.    
  


He walked up to the counter, where a middle-aged woman stood, ordering a very long, complicated order. The barista squirmed and rushed around, frantically trying to keep track. 

 

Lance laughed lightly. He pitied her, Hunk was just like that when he had started working there. 

 

He rotates on the balls of his feet, taking the place in for the millionth time. The walls of the interior are exposed brick, and hung upon them, the work of local artists. All of them were unique and quirky, but somehow managed to fit the place perfectly.   
  
The menu board behind the counter is filled with cute lion-themed items, which are extremely embarrassing to order, but it adds to the charm. The board's border was a string of colourful flying lions, handpainted by the owner, Allura.   
  
On the front counter there were cute knick knacks donated from customers. Most of them were cheap dollar store toys. But since the school had some exchange students and traveling professors, others were beautifully detailed and delicate china statues.   
  
The woman in front of him finally rounded off her lengthy order, moving out of the way. Lance stepped up to the counter, flashing the barista his most charming smile and a wink for good measure. She flushes bright red and Lance struggles to bite back a laugh. Hunk has told his to stop flirting with the baristas so many times, but Lance can’t help it. 

 

He orders the most sickeningly sweet beverage he can find, picks it up off the counter, then heads over to Pidge and Hunk, both of whom were sitting in brightly coloured armchairs.   
  
Lance sits down across from them, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table.   
  
"Oh my god Lance, what the hell did you order? I can smell the caramel from here." Pidge wrinkles their nose in distaste.   
  
"First of all, rude," Lance says, sipping his drink and trying not to gag as he's met with a river of pure sugar, "Second of all, at least I don't order a gallon of coffee every time I come here." Lance jokes, eyeing Pidge's ginormous cup.   
  
"I can't physically stay awake anymore unless I drink this." they shrug, taking a large gulp of steaming hot coffee.   
  
"You guys are weird."    
  
"Says the one drinking tea." Pidge deadpans at Hunk, who just rolls his eyes and laughs.   
  
"I still don't know what you have against tea, Pidge." Hunk says in mock defense.   
  
"It can't keep me awake nearly as well as good old Blackie here." they say, looking fondly down at their cup of pure poison.   
  
"Alright, I'm going to try to forget that you just called your drink 'Blackie'."    
  
"Shut up," Pidge groans, "do you even understand how tired I am?"   
  
"No, we sleep like regular humans." Lance grins.   
  
Pidge flips him off and goes back to chugging down their death juice and scrolling through their phone.   
  
"Who’re you texting?" asks Lance curiously leaning over their shoulder, only to be promptly swatted away.   
  
"Keith, he’s my ride since Matt can’t drive me currently."   
  
"Why can't Matt drive you?" questions Hunk.   
  
"He hasn't been home due to," Pidge puts down their device to make air quote "super secret stuff."   
  
"Ah yes," Hunk replies "the super secret stuff."   
  
Lance zones out from the conversation a little, idly sipping his drink and looking at the new painting Allura hung. It's a large canvas, with a black background. Dusty rose petals are falling from the top onto the head of a young girl. It's extremely captivating to look at, the colours flow beautifully together and if Lance weren't a broke college student he'd probably buy it.   
  
Lance is snapped out of his trance when he sees movement near the front of the shop.

  
Standing at the counter is the most beautiful boy Lance has ever seen.   
  
Long raven hair pulled back into a messy bun, loose strands curling around the nape of his neck.    
  
He's wearing a black tee, with a red flannel tied around his waist, which on anyone else Lance would've scoffed at and called hipstery, but fuck, this guy pulls it off.

 

Lance is vaguely aware of his mouth hanging open, but does nothing because jesus christ it should be illegal to be that hot.

 

The beautiful boy turns to the side slightly as he glances back, and Lance catches sight of a jawline sharp enough to cut through steel and full pouting lips.

 

The only word the comes to Lance’s mind is pretty, and he can’t deny it. This boy is extremely pretty.

 

“Lance..?” Hunk says a little concerned, waving his hand in front of Lance’s awestruck face.

 

“Huh?” Lance quickly whips his head towards Hunk, taking his eyes of the boy at the counter. 

 

Pidge looks over to where Lance’s gaze has been transfixed, only to breakout into a grin.   
  
"Hey, he's here!" they say, waving the boy over.   
  


Holy shit. This boy is Keith?

  
And then he looks back to the advancing boy.   
  
And Lance chokes.   
  
A light pink scar traces its way up the boys jaw in a painfully familiar way.   
  
No.   
  


_ This _ ,is Keith? 

  
"Hey Keith!" Pidge grins, the so called "Keith" smiles softly in response.   
  
"This is Hunk." they say, gesturing to Hunk, who grins and shakes Keith's hand.   
  
"Awesome to meet you, dude. Pidge talks about you constantly!" Hunk says, grin stretching even more.   
  


Keith’s cheeks turn a light pink, seeming to shy at the sudden attention. Which isn’t cute at all. Not even close.

  
"And this is Lance." Pidge says, pointing over to Lance, who remains silent, jaw dropped and clearly gawking.   
  
"Um, is he alright?" Keith asks quizzically.   
  
"Lance..?" Pidge says, snapping their fingers in front of Lance's face a few times.   
  
Lance shakes his head vigorously then looks back at Keith.    
  
"No." Lance says.   
  
All of them turn to stare at him strangely.   
  
"This is your Keith?!" Lance says, throwing his arms up.   
  
"Yes..?" Pidge says slowly, furrowing their eyebrows in confusion.   
  
"Your Keith is the mullet dude who was a jerk to me?" Lance says unbelievably.   
  
"No way." Hunk breathes, staring at Keith in awe.   
  
"Excuse me?" Keith says, confusion flooding his features.   
  
"You came into the Comet-Mart looking like you just fell off a cliff and were a complete ass." Lance says, pointing an accusing finger at Keith and raising his eyebrows expectantly.   
  
"What?" Keith says, his voice heavy with confusion.   
  
Lances face drops. 

 

"You don't remember me?" Lance asks, watching as Keith blinks slowly back.   
  
"No?"    
  
Lance splutters back.   
  
How can he not remember him? What the actual fuck man?   
  
"Lance are you sure that's him?" Hunkwhispers, a hint of concern coating his voice.   
  
"Uh yeah? He has the stupid cut and same rude attitude!" Lance snaps back.   
  
"I've barely said anything!" Keith spreads his arms in disbelief.   
  
"How'd you get that cut then?" Lance asks, eyebrows raised expectantly.   
  
"None of your business, that's how." he responds harshly.   
  
"It is you. I remember you came into my work when you got it."   
  
"Whatever," Keith spits, "Pidge can we please go, despite what you think, I have a life too."   
  
Pidge nods slowly, staring at Lance like he came from space.   
  
"Bye guys..” they say slowly, looking at Lance “I'll see you later." They push themselves off the armchair, and half run to catch up to Keith, who's almost out the door.   
  
Hunk waves, then turns to face Lance.   
  
"Dude," he says in disbelief, "what the hell was that?"   
  
"It was him!" Lance says, throwing his arms up.   
  
"That doesn't explain why you were a total jerk."    
  
"I was not."    
  
"You kinda were."    
  
"He started it."   
  
Hunk stares at him in bewilderment.   
  
"He came here to pick up Pidge and meet us, and was being perfectly nice. How the hell did he start it?"    
  
"He started it when he walked into the Comet-Mart with his bad attitude and stupid hair!"    
  
"Lance," Hunk says, exasperated, "he probably was having a rough night then. And he seems really cool. I mean, Pidge loves him."   
  
"I guess." Lance says a little defeatedly.   
  
The sound of a motorcycle cuts through the air and both him and Hunk look up, to see Keith and Pidge speeding out of the parking lot on a red motorcycle.   
  
“You've got to be kidding me.” Lance groans.   
  
  
*    *    *   
  
  
Lance and Hunk stay about an hour after Pidge leaves. Most of it is spent by Lance's rambling about how Pidge had never told him that was Keith and how much he hates that guy, followed by Hunk's exasperated sighs.   
  
On the walk back to their apartment, Hunk nudges Lance with his elbow.   
  
"Hey Lance?" he says.   
  
"Hmm." Lance hums in response.   
  
"Well," Hunk scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "I still think you should give him a chance." he says.   
  
"No." Lance says.   
  
"Buddy..."    
  
"You are not telling me you thought Pidge's asshole friend was even a little bit awful"    
  
"He wasn’t! And you didn't see yourself looking at him before you realized who he was.” Hunk says a little defensively, “Dude you were literally drooling."   
  
"I was not!" Lance squawks angrily.   
  
"Um y-"   
  
"No."   
  
"Lance c'mon." Hunk says a little tiredly.   
  
"No more comments please." Lance's voice cracks awfully and he inwardly cringes.   
  
Maybe at first he found Keith ever so barely, slightly attractive, but not after he realized who he was!   
  
Lance wanted  _ ever _ so badly to slam his head into a wall.   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting this a little later, school was killing me a bit. Also I had so much editing to do on this since I wrote it so late at night...so sorry if there are any awful grammar mistakes. Anyways, Lance and Keith finally meet, and it was just as intense as expected. When I first wrote it, Lance just about punched Keith so I dialed it down A LOT. 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading this chapter, please leave comments and let me know what you think so far! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Keith was starting to think the universe hated him, just a little.  
  
To be fair he had shown up to pick up Pidge with a large and very unforgiving hangover. That was his first mistake. His second mistake came in the form of Pidge's incredibly annoying and rude friend, Lance.  
  
As soon as they left, Pidge had started profusely apologising. Which Keith would've appreciated if his head wasn't about to explode.  
  
So maybe the universe didn't hate him, maybe Keith just really hated himself.   
  
Like, really hated himself.  
  
  
*    * *  
  
  
Keith wound up getting back to the garage half an hour late, but Coran didn't seem to care much, dismissing his apology with a reminiscent wave.  
  
Heading to the back of the shop to his current project, Keith rewound the days events. What the hell had he done to that guy, Lance? Sure he had a temper and was known to black out in fits of rage, but that hadn't happened severely for years.  
  
Keith had felt bad for the guy when he spotted a flash of hurt cross Lance's eyes. But that had quickly melted away as soon as a sharp, accusing tone slashed at him. What the hell did he even do to him? Why was it so hard to believe that Keith didn't remember him?  
  
Looking down at his hands and realising they were clenched into fists, Keith took a deep breath.  
  
"Doesn't matter, it's over. I doubt I'll even see that guy again." Keith breathed, sliding himself beneath a black Honda in for a check.  
  
  
*    * *  
  
Keith left the garage at 10, Coran having left hours before. Keith had finished his work at 6 but hadn't wanted to leave, feeling sick to his stomach. He had an itch right below the skin, and itch to just drink and drink and drink until he was no longer himself, because at the moment, Keith loathed himself. He'd gone to the bar for days straight now, coming home at early hours, reading of stale alcohol.  
  
That is, if he actually made it home.   
  
Not that Keith was a slut. No. Never in a million years. But from time to time, or in the past few days, he just needed a break. He was sick of people trying to know him, trying to see through him to whatever feelings were swimming in his black sludge of a heart. So he let himself indulge in strangers. And it was absolute shit if he would be completely honest, but Keith was rarely honest with himself, so that didn't matter.   
  
So he told them they were great, and let himself be submerged in the idea that he was an entirely different being, living in an entirely different body. And at the crack of dawn he drove home, hangover pounding relentlessly against his head. He ignored Shiro's concerned brotherly looks because what was the point? Keith was fine. Unhappy, but fine.   
  
  
*    * *  
  
  
Keith didn't realise where he was until the blinding lights of the Comet-Mart were shining upon his face. He hadn't meant to come here, but somehow he wound up here. But he supposed a convenience store in the middle of the night was better than a dingy bar in the middle of the night.  
  
The store reminds him of a hospital with its bright, white fluorescent lights and stained tile ceiling. Involuntarily he reaches up and brushes his scar, wincing slightly at the tender region.  
  
God he was such an idiot sometimes.  
  
He walks to the back wall, grabbing a Diet Coke and sauntering over to the front counter. He puts the bottle on the counter, fiddling in his pocket for his wallet as a hand reaches out to scan the item. Keith notices that the cashier has nice hands, they remind him of caramel and are dotted with freckles.   
  
"Anything else for today?" the cashier says, and Keith's heart drops as he looks up to meet startlingly blue eyes.  
  
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Keith breathes as he realises who this is.  
  
It's Lance.   
  
The Lance.  
  
Pidge's Lance.  
  
The one who screamed at him in a coffee shop only hours earlier.  
  
Keith now wasn't thinking the universe hated him. He knew.  
  
"Wow hi to you too." Lance scoffs.  
  
"Shit, sorry." Keith mumbles, "a pack of smokes too, yeah. . . one down. . . those yeah."  
  
Lance rings them up and takes his cash, counting it with his ridiculously pretty hands.  
  
"Enjoy your cancer sticks." he says as Keith picks them up off the counter, sending a glare his way.  
  
"Oh I will." he replies dryly, walking out of the store with the bottle dangling loosely between his middle and index finger.  
  
As soon as he makes it past the double doors he lets out a heavy exhale. Why is he like this? Why can't he just apologise for whatever it was that pissed Lance off? Why can't he be a decent human being for once? Why, why, why, why, why?  
  
Keith turns around and marches back into the store, heading straight for the counter where a bewildered Lance glances up from his phone.   
  
"Look man I'm sorry." Keith huffs, looking at Lance expectantly.  
  
"Excuse me?" Lance says, sounded more confused by the second.  
  
Keith's anger begins to simmer, who does this guy think he is?  
  
"You sounded upset when Pidge introduced us, so I figured I did something wrong. So sorry for whatever I did." Keith explained, watching Lance's face shift from confusion to offense.  
  
"You don't even know what I was mad at you for?! Are you kidding me?" Lance sputters, his arms thrust out to the side.  
  
"No? Why would I?" its Keith's turn to be confused by the tanned boy before him.  
  
"Because the night you got that cut of yours," Lance gestures wildly to the side of Keith's face "you came here and were a total ass to me when I tried to be a nice person!!" Lance practically yells.  
  
"What the hell?" Keith spits out, "You were so rude to me because I was pissed about having my face sliced open by a fucking knife?!" he's fuming, and he knows he shouldn't be, but this guy is getting under his skin.  
  
"Uh yes? It was mean!!"   
  
"How old are you?! Who gets mad about that?!" Keith says, voice rising.  
  
"I do!" Lance retorts defensively.  
  
Keith realises how poor his decision making is. How bad of an idea this was. He needs to get out of here, this guy is getting deep under his skin. He doesn't need to be angry, not tonight. He just needs to get out of here and breathe.  
  
"Oh my god, why do I even try." Keith mutters, storming. He doesn't turn to see Lances face, but why would he even want to. He tried. He did. He doesn't know why though. He knows by now he's not the apologetic type. His apologies tend to be along the lines of "un-fuck you, I guess".   
  
Yeah it's pathetic, but Keith felt pathetic. Actually, Keith was just mad. Again. He needed to get his shit together, but he couldn't.   
  
Shoving a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it, he leans against his bike, sucking in deeply and exhaling into the night air.  
  
He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and opening a new message.  
  
Thursday - 11h10 p.m.  
Message to: pidgeon  
 **  
** **aliens_r_real:** i hate your friends  
 **aliens_r_real:** *friend  
 **pidgeon:** is the this supposed to be surprising? bc you told me this several times on the ride home.  
 **aliens_r_real:** for your information i apologised to him. and he was a total asshole about it  
 **pidgeon:** wait you actually apologised for something? seriously?  
 **aliens_r_real:** okay, ouch. also yeah i did.  
 **pidgeon:** oh wow **  
** **pidgeon:** i'll talk to lance. he can be a bit dramatic from time to time  
 **aliens_r_real:** a bit?  
 **pidgeon:** okay fine a lot.  
 **pidgeon:** i gotta go, you're ruining my concentration.  
 **aliens_r_real:** fine  
  
Keith puts his phone back in his pocket and extinguishes the cigarette with his heel.   
  
He seriously hated people sometimes. Well not hated, he just didn't understand them. People had too many emotions, and unlike Keith, they usually expressed them. Keith didn't like emotions. They got in the way of things. Over complicated everything.   
  
  
*    * *  
  
  
Keith was rudely awoken by the sound of his phone ringing on his nightstand.  
  
He blinding groped for it, bleary eyes peering down at the caller ID. An angry Pidge glares up at him as he reluctantly pushes "answer" and presses the device to his ear.  
  
"Pidge," Keith starts groggily "it is really fucking early, so unless a giant robot lion has fallen into your backyard, you shouldn't be calling me."  
  
"Okay first of all," comes Pidge's voice. Slightly crackled because Keith's phone is shit and he refuses to get a new one. "It's 8, get your ass up. Second, tonight we're having a video game night. And because you're a hermit, you're coming."  
  
"Who's we exactly. . ." Keith asks skeptically. He has a really bad feeling that we is not Matt and Pidge.  
  
"Lance and Hunk. But before you freak the fuck out. I talked to him, you're gonna be fine."  
  
"Pidge I told you I don't like him. Why would I want to spend two hours with him?"  
  
"Because you love me. Also he said he can easily kick your ass at Mario Kart and I want to see that his is properly destroyed by you."  
  
Damnit.  
  
"Fine. But if he's an ass, I'm leaving."  
  
"Sweet, see you at the usual time."   
  
They hang up, and Keith flops back down onto his bed. He needs to stop letting Pidge do that. He's gotten roped into way too many "great ideas" of hers. And over half of them wind up with either Keith of them injured.  
  
Eventually Keith manages to get out of bed.   
  
Eventually.  
  
It would be an understatement to say Keith isn't a morning person. He despises getting up at reasonable times. He'll either be up before the sun or not at all. Which is quite sad, but Keith just doesn't do mornings.  
  
Which is why when he entered the kitchen, he grabbed the comically large cup he got Shiro for his birthday, and filled it to the brim with black coffee.  
  
"Well good morning, sunshine." Shirt chines as he enters the kitchen and spits Keith sitting stooped over at the counter.  
  
Keith groans in response.  
  
"It's 8 in the morning Keith, look alive." He says, slapping Keith hard on the back and sending him forward a few inches.  
  
"No way. Also why are you dressed?"  
  
"Because unlike you I actually made plans with people." Shiro says, pouring his coffee in a to-go cup and adding a sick amount of sugar to it.  
  
"Okay for your information I'm hanging out with Pidge today." Keith snaps back halfheartedly.  
  
Shiro raises his eyebrows at Keith, "Oh really? How's they pull that one off?"   
  
"They called me a hermit and said their friend could beat me at Mario Kart."  
  
"Oh the poor soul, they won't know what's coming to them." Shiro shakes his head sympathetically.  
  
Keith sets his mug in the sink and heads towards the closet next to the bathroom.  
  
"I'm gonna take a shower, so if you need to use the bathroom, use it now." he says, standing on tiptoe to grab a towel off the top shelf.  
  
"And a shower before noon?! Turning over a new new leaf, I see!" Shiro calls from the kitchen, laughing as Keith flips him off.  
  
  
*    * *  
  
  
Keith would've gotten to Pidge's earlier. He would've. Except he spent 20 minutes trying to come up with valid reasons not to. When he finally figured out there was no avoiding it, he realised he was 20 minutes late.  
  
By the time he got there, he found the door unlocked and opened it to see Pidge and Hunk were sitting on the floor, controllers in hand, and Lance was lounging on the couch, fiddling with his phone.  
  
"Finally, you're usually the first one here. What gives?" Pidge says, keeping their eyes focused on screen.  
  
"I took the long way." Keith poorly lies. He can practically hear Pidge rolling their eyes at him.  
  
"Yeah, whatever you say, dude. Anyways Lance wants to play you in Mario Kart after this."   
  
"Yeah, alright." Keith says, sitting on the arm of the couch.  
  
"Actually its crush, for you information."  
  
Keith startles, looking down at Lance who's looking at him expectantly.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said its crush, actually. I am going to crush you in Mario Kart." Lance says smugly.  
  
Keith laughs "Yeah, alright."   
  
He looks to the TV where the leaderboard displays toad's name in first.  
  
"God damnit, Hunk. You had Toad! How the hell do you win with Toad?!" Pidge yells, throwing the controller in Keith's direction.   
  
"Hey don't underestimate him!" Hunk laughs, getting up and handing his controller to Lance.  
  
Keith sits cross-legged on the floor, selecting a character and waiting for Lance.   
  
"Really? Luigi? Keith my boy, I am disappointed." Lance clucks disapprovingly.  
  
"Like you picked any better. Princess Peach? Seriously?"  
  
"Hey! Princess Peach is great man!" he retorts defensively.  
  
"Yeah whatever you say, man." Keith shakes his head, "Oh c'mon not Rainbow Road."  
  
"Uh yes Rainbow Road? Be prepared to lose, mullet." Lance grins, pressing go and watching the countdown maliciously.  
  
  
*    * *  
  
Keith won.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, long time no write. Low-key forgot I was in the middle of a fanfic on here. I will upload more soon, just bear with me plz


	5. Chapter 5

"Lance I swear to god if you don't get off my back in the next five seconds I will throw you in this dumster."

"But-"

"Lance, you lost to Keith in Mario Kart, it is not the end of the world."

"Hunk how you could mention it?! I'm still in my mourning period!!" Lance whines, keeping his legs wrapped tightly around Hunk's waist.

"Lance I will actually stick you in the trunk." Hunk laughs, walking towards the beat-up, navy blue minivan, attempting to shake off the boy clinging to him for dear life.

Lance whines, stubbornly detaching himself from Hunk and dramatically stretching out his legs.

"Stupid mullet." he huffs, sliding into the passenger's seat as Hunk starts the car.

"Yeah right man, you had fun." Hunk shakes his head, laughing lightly.

"I'm serious!" Lance squawks back, "He's in his early twenties and dresses like an emo teenager! Not to mention he totally cheated. I don't know how Pidge is friends with him."

"Mhm, whatever you say buddy." Hunk rolls his eyes fondly, turning his head as he backs out of the parking space.

"What are you rolling your eyes for?" Lance asks, peering at Hunk quizzically.

"I don't know man, you're just acting like a little kid about all this, that's all. What're you gonna do next? Pull his pigtails?"

Lance's jaw swings open and shut a few times, the gears in his head turning rapidly in attempt to process what Hunk just said.

"W-what?" is all that manages to escape his mouth along with incomprehensible fragments.

"I do not act like that." Lance finally manages to get out, a blush creeping up his neck as Hunk looks away from the road and gives him a look of extreme doubt.

"You like him right?" Hunk says, "That's why you were acting like a four year old?" he glances over and laughs loudly as Lance grimaces.

"Sorry, sometimes I forget you're a rock who can't recognise his own feelings." Hunk laughs again, turning back to look at the road.

"Screw you, man." Lance huffs, slouching into his seat, immediately regretting it as he realised he was just proving Hunk right.

He didn't like Keith.

He was barely tolerating him for Pidge's sake.

  
* * *

  
Lance got out of bed the next morning to find that he had been thoroughly spammed by Pidge.

Saturday - 3h03 a.m.  
**Message from:** pidgeon

**pidgeon:** wasn't as bird as you thought it'd be, right?  
**pidgeon:** not bird  
**pidgeon:** i mean bird  
**pidgeon:** what the flock  
**pidgeon:** GOD DAMNIT MATT  
**pidgeon:** THIS IS THE THIRD TIME THIS WEEK

**pidgeon:** lance why are you ignoring me?

**pidgeon:** oh shit it's 3 in the morning  
**pidgeon:** i forgot you actually sleep  
**pidgeon:** sleep is for the weak, man

  
**all_bi_myself:** idk, he has a mullet  
**all_bi_myself:** don't think i could ever like a guy with a mullet  
**pidgeon:** yeah right, you had fun  
**all_bi_myself:** bird says what  
**pidgeon:** i hate you.  
**all_bi_myself:** <33333  
**pidgeon:** but seriously, he's a good guy. he's just weird around new people  
**all_bi_myself:** mhm okay  
**pidgeon:** you're really stubborn sometimes  
**all_bi_myself:** yeh its my specialty ;)  
**pidgeon:** he's a nice guy  
**all_bi_myself:** he has a mullet  
**pidgeon:** SO?!  
**all_bi_myself:** gasp  
**all_bi_myself:** my child  
**all_bi_myself:** to have a mullet is to sin  
**pidgeon:** oh my god i'm done

  
* * *

  
Lance almost missed the mop of black hair as it entered the store when he was talking to a customer.

Almost.

"--at were you saying? You kinda trailed off there." the pretty blonde girl in front of him says, looking at him quizzically.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I said my classes have been killing me too."

"Yeah college sucks."

Lance laughs, glancing at the dark haired boy by the fridges, "You can say that again."

He takes her items, holding up one to her, "Although I gotta say I'm disappointed, everyone knows classic Hershey is superior to cookies and cream."

"In what universe?" the girl says back. She's flirting with him, making it obvious too. Lance almost wants to laugh at it. She's even playing by with her hair.

  
"In every single universe ever?" Lance grins as she laughs, taking her bag from him.

"Well thank you for educating me on chocolate types. I'll have to remember next time." She says, grabbing a pen and signing her name at the bottom of her receipt. She starts walking away but seems to think better of it, stepping back to the counter and picking up the pen again.

"Give me your arm." she says, grinning.

Lance raises an amused eyebrow but obliges. The pen tip tickles his forearm but he holds still.

He can't believe people still do this.

"Y'know, my phone is literally in my pocket." he says, looking at the girl as she caps the pen and puts it back down on the table.

She shrugs "Call me old fashioned I guess."

"Kinda a little shady to give a stranger your number don't yah think?"

"I know your name is Lance, you work at a convenience store, you go to uni, you are passionate about your chocolate types, and you're quite cute. I wouldn't call that strangers." she says, looking accomplished.

"Touché," Lance says, looking down at his arm, "Amu? That's an unusual name."

She laughs, "Didn't think my handwriting was that horrid, it's Anna."

"I think I like Amu better." he says, watching her laugh again and head towards the door.

"Whatever floats your boat, Lance. Anyways you should call me, I'd love to discuss why cookies n' cream is far superior!"

"Oh in your dreams!" Lance calls, looking back down at his arm. She has cute handwriting.

Lance sees Keith walk up to the counter out of the corner of his eye. Keith is looking down at his phone, a pair of earbuds in, refusing to make eye contact.

_Jesus Christ way to be antisocial, man._

His cut on his face seems to be healing alright though, it's still puffy around the edges which is a giveaway that Keith hasn't been medicating it. He briefly wonders if Pidge has gotten after him about it, it'd be odd if they didn't. Unless they couldn't tell maybe?

Keith sets a can of coke on the counter and looks up as Lance swipes it.

"WILL THAT BE ALL FOR TODAY, MY GOOD SIR?" Lance yells, dramatically forming the words.

Keith deadpans him, pulling out his ear buds and slinging them around his neck.

"I can hear you even with these in y'know." He says, rolling his eyes when Lance gives him a mock-oblivious look.

"Don't know what your talking about." He says, grinning anyways.

Keith opens his mouth for a second like he's about to retort but then closes it. He walks back to the snacks isle, ignoring Lance's curious questions.

When he returns there's a Hershey's bar in his hands. Lance swipes it and bags it as well, handing the plastic to Keith.

He briefly wonders if Keith overheard his conversation with Anna but pushes that out of his head.

Keith takes the bag but doesn't leave. He hesitates, standing rooted to the spot for a split second before looking back at Lance.

"Hey do you have a piece of paper or something?" he asks, looking back down at his feet.

Lance is surprised at the request but checks anyways, putting a sticky note on the counter and watches as Keith snatches it off the counter.

"Thanks." he mumbles, walking out of the store and leaving Lance standing there awkwardly.

_What the actual hell?_

Why did Pidge like this guy? He was so fucking weird it made Lance want to pull his hair out.

  
* * *

  
Lance decided to close up early because it was completely dead in the store and in all honesty, he just wanted to go home.

So he flicked off all the lights, whacked the stereo about 40 times before it actually stopped playing, and shut down his register.

It had finally started to get cold outside, which was a little upsetting to Lance considering he was from Cuba and his favourite season was summer. He wasn't ready for walking through snow to get to class, he really wasn't.

Lance slides his arms through his sweatshirt sleeves as he makes a beeline for his car. As he draws nearer he notices a sheet of paper placed under his windshield wiper and gawks.

"Are you freaking serious?! How can you give me a parking ticket, this is a regular parking lot?! I work here!" he groans.

Now angry, Lance storms up to the front of his car, but his steps suddenly falter when he realises it's not a parking ticket.

It's not even paper.

Placed under his windshield wiper is --

"A Hershey's bar?" Lance says, extremely confused.

Carefully he extracts it, and flips it in his hands.

A small blue sticky note falls to the ground. On it, in small crammed lettering is written:

 

_Hey Lance,_

_I'm sorry about the whole face thing. I shouldn't have taken that out on you. Not sorry for Mario Kart though, you deserved that._

_\- Pidge's Weird Friend Keith_

 

Lance starts laughing, looking down at the bizarre sticky note, and covering his mouth with his hand to hide the grin spreading across his face.

_Oh my god that is so adorable._

_Wait._

_No._

_Non_ onononononono.

  
* * *

  
As soon as Lance wakes up he calls Anna.

He doesn't know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys i'm sorry for taking so long to put out chapters, school's been killing me.
> 
> ANYWAYS, important announcement! the lovely @safety-klance on tumblr made art for this fic!!
> 
> you can check it out here:
> 
> https://safety-klance.tumblr.com/image/172645752192


	6. Chapter 6

To say Keith felt kind of stupid for what he did would be an understatement. He felt like a five year old. Why couldn't he have just apologised again in person?

Because he was an idiot. An idiot with a capital "I". And in his opinion a capital "D-I-O-T" as well.

God, he hated himself sometimes. What did he think this was, a shoujo manga? That he could just do spontaneous things like that and it would all work out and how him and Lance would get over their differences and come together in a way never expected? Coming to your local manga shoppe in May!

Keith felt like slamming his head into a wall.

But he didn't.

He went to a bar instead.

He went to a bar feeling vaguely like he was falling.

And he kept falling.

Down, down, down.

  
* * *

  
Keith awoke to the feeling of death, which was a tad of an overstatement. He sat up, slowing blinking in the bright light of his room, slowly running his hands through his hair. It felt greasy and he immediately regretted it, cringing as he turned to the strong light pouring through his windows.

_Ugh, who the hell left the curtains open?_

Keith knew exactly who left them open. Himself. And that just made him hate himself more.

Somehow.

He glanced over at his alarm clock. 08h12. He does a double take. Why the hell would he wake up this early? He was clearly drunk last night, and he usually sleeps like a log when he's drunk, not waking up till late afternoon. So why the hell was he up?

His question was answered by a faint buzzing beneath his pillow. He reaches his hand, withdrawing his phone and tilting his head in confusion.

He has two new notifications. From an unknown contact.

He opens his phone, going into his recent message.

 

**Message from:** all_bi_myself

**all_bi_myself:** pidges weird friend keith huh?  
 **all_bi_myelf:** gotta say im a little disappointed with the creativity level there  
 **all_bi_myself:** personally i like mullet man more but whatever floats your boat ig

 

Keith reads the messages again.

And again.

And a fourth time.

"What the hell.." he murmurs

How did Lance get his number? Why does Lance have his number? Why did he think to text him? Is this a joke?

Keith flops back down onto the bed, his hungover brain slowing nibbling away at this new information. Processing.

 

**Message to:** all_bi_myself

**aliens_r_real:** okay 1. it's too early for this and 2. how the actual fuck did you get my number and 3. i don't have a mullet??

 

Lance's response comes immediately, startling him slightly.

 

**Message from:** all_bi_myself

**all_bi_myself:** wow 1 its 08h20? thats not early? 2 pidge and 3 um yes you do? like extreme mullet dude  
 **aliens_r_real:** that still doesn't explain why you're texting me  
 **all_bi_myself:** okay   
**all_bi_myself:** wow   
**all_bi_myself:** ouch  
 **aliens_r_real:** not answering my question i see, didn't realise you were this desperate to talk to me

Keith smiles a little to himself. He's feeling more confident than usual, he can't pinpoint why, but he doesn't feel the usual knot of anger and frustration threatening to rip him apart as he stumbles on what to say.

Maybe it's because texting is different. Or maybe it's because Lance is different.

Keith shoves out the latter, glances back down at his mobile where Lance has responded.

 

**all_bi_myself:** okay that is incorrect on SO MANY LEVELS  
 **all_bi_myself:** also i texted cuz ur partially forgiven   
**aliens_r_real:** partially?  
 **all_bi_myself:** well i can't completely forgive someone w a mullet can i?  
 **aliens_r_real:** it's not a mullet  
 **aliens_r_real:** also i bought you food, i should be forgiven  
 **all_bi_myself:** jc im not an animal  
 **all_bi_myself:** u cant just buy me w food  
 **aliens_r_real:** i beg to differ  
 **all_bi_myself:** shbsidjsnskxnnfjd  
 **all_bi_myself:** ok rude.

Keith finds himself chuckling a little at just the overall dramatic absurdity that is Pidge's friend but then cuts himself off, suddenly feeling really awkward. Maybe everyone's like this and he just never noticed because he's so alone.

He starts to feel the sickeningly familiar feeling of frustration, starting to squeeze his organs, dig a hole in his abdomen. He tries to will it away. Tries.

He's hungover. Hungover should not mean angry. Miserable? Sure. Angry? No.

Keith blinks hard, trying to ignore the feeling of it swarming to his legs, making them feel numb.

He takes a deep breath, forgetting he has left Lance on open, and leaves his phone on his be, making his way to the kitchen.

Shiro's in the living room on his phone, but looks up when he hears Keith shuffling into the room.

"I thought I'd heard you."

Keith looks down at his feet, "Uh, yeah. Sorry."

Shiro looks at Keith like he's searching his soul. Keith tries not to squirm under his concerned gaze.  
Under the surface of his skin, anger simmers.

_He's doing this because he feels bad for you._

"Nothing to apologise for. Just thought it was a little strange that you were up this morning."

_You're the guy people pity._

"Yeah sorry, Pidge's friend was texting me and it woke me up."

Lance probably felt bad too.

"Pidge's friend, huh?" Shiro says expectantly.

_Yeah, Pidge’s friend. Not yours._

"Yeah uh--" Keith feels a wave of nausea wash over him, and suddenly he regrets getting up. He rushes to the bathroom and hears Shiro get off the couch and trail behind him.

"Keith. . ." Shiro kneels beside him, rubbing small circles on his back, "what's going on?"

Keith stays silent. His head is throbbing. He's sitting, hungover in the bathroom wishing the world would stop spinning so fast.

He wants to tell Shiro. At least some part of him does. Yet a much larger part is just screaming "NO. NO. NO."

Because what would he tell Shiro? ‘Dear brother, it has been brought to my attention that the world fucking sucks and I hate it.’ Shiro probably thinks he’s going insane.If he knew, he would drop everything to try to "fix" what's wrong. Keith doesn't even know how one could begin fixing this. Fixing this heat that’s trying to boil him alive.

Because it's not constant. The anger comes and goes. The stress comes and goes. The frustration comes and goes. Everything – _everyone_ –comes and goes. In and out. To and from. To and from. To and from. From. Going. Going. Going. Gone.

"I'm sorry." Keith mumbles, wiping the back of his mouth and making his way to the sink, rinsing his hand of a grime that isn't really there.

"It's not your fault. Are you getting ill?" Shiro says, still hovering, still rubbing his sympathetic circles.

Keith takes a deep breath. "Just a little hungover. Sorry." he tries to sound fine but his voice comes out congested.

"You wanna get bagels?" Shiro laughs as Keith's expression melts quickly into confusion.

"Bagels?"

"Yeah Matt said Pidge took him to a cute little cafe the other day that had nice bagels. You’re hungover, we like bagels. You should go get bagels."

"That is so weird. I will never understand you two." Keith huffs out a laugh, then pushes Shiro out the bathroom door, "Let me shower and then send me that address."

  
* * *

  
Keith should've known.

He really should've.

The signs were there. He should've figured it out the second Shiro mentioned Pidge.

Keith stands awkwardly in the parking lot of the Lions Cafe, shifting his weight from side to side.

He reaches into his pocket to check the time, and instead finds a plethora of unopened messages from Lance.

Keith had completely forgotten about the fact that they were in the middle of a conversation when he stopped responding.

He slides open his phone, scrolling through dramatic messages.

 

**Message from:** all_bi_myself

**all_bi_myself:** ok wow didnt expect u to be that hurt that youd stop responding

**all_bi_myself:** keithhhhhhhh im sorry  
 **all_bi_myself:** i forgive u  
 **all_bi_myself:** u r forgiven

**all_bi_myself:** did u die..?  
 **all_bi_myself:** was my awesomeness just too much?  
 **all_bi_myself:** lo siento mi amigo?  
 **all_bi_myself:** contesta  
 **all_bi_myself:** contesta  
 **all_bi_myself:** contesta  
 **all_bi_myself:** ok cleary my spanish isnt working  
 **all_bi_myself:** how dare btw

 

Keith huffs out a laugh, quickly responding.

 

**Message to:** all_bi_myself

**aliens_r_real:** sorry, totally spaced out and forgot i had a phone  
 **aliens_r_real:** spanish was great though

 

Lance’s response comes almost immediately.

 

**Message from:** all_bi_myself

**all_bi_myself:** its alright man  
 **all_bi_myself:** and thnx, not everyday i get to whip out my amazing skills

**aliens_r_real:** are you fluent?  
 **all_bi_myself:** sí

 

Keith doesn’t realise he’s been standing in the middle of the parking lot until he’s almost hit by a minivan.

He awkwardly, backs up, just nearly avoiding being hit, before making his way to the small shop.

Pushing open the door, he’s relieved to see that there are only three people in line, and quickly slips in behind a woman having a very intense conversation on her phone.

Keith reaches into his back pocket and withdraws his phone. There’s a new notification from Lance but before he has a chance to take a look, he hears his name being called and startles.

Keith looks up to see Hunk emerging from the kitchen, balancing a large tray of muffins with one hand as he waves at Keith.

“Hey dude! What’re you doing here?” Hunk slides the tray effortlessly into the display case, smiling brightly.

“Bagels?” Keith says, although it sounds more like a question than an answer.

“You don’t sound to sure about that, man.” Hunk responds, smile still bright as ever.

“Yeah, sorry. It was a last minute decision.” Keith says, pushing away a strand of stray hair and moving up in line.

“No worries, no worries. Also, it was good seeing you at game night, never seen Lance get that worked up over Mario Kart in my life. You should’ve seen him on the ride home, wouldn’t shut up about yo--.”

Keith can feel his face begin to heat at that last comment.

Lance was talking about him?

“Okay whoops, probably shouldn’t have included that last part.” Hunk says awkwardly.

“It’s fine man, I’m sure it’s not what it sounded like.” Keith says, hoping his face isn’t nearly as pink as it feels.

“Uh--” Hunk is cut off by a loud clatter from the kitchen, “yeah that’s my cue to go, good seeing you, man!”

Keith’s mouth is slightly ajar. Because he doesn’t get people. He can’t read them. They’re so confusing. Pidge’s friends are so confusing.

The woman in front of him in still chatting away and motions for him to move in front of her. He mutters thank you, ordering a dozen bagels and an iced coffee from the very tired-looking barista.

Keith thanks her as she warily hands him his coffee. He feels bad, she looked absolutely exhausted, like Shiro was in his first years of university.

He mills around to a large armchair in the corner and plops down, pulling out his phone to respond to Lance. As he unlocks his phone he hears a dramatic scoff and glances up to see Lance walking towards him.

“You left me on read, how dare you. I shouldn’t even be speaking to you.” Lance says, trying to hold his dramatic tone but failing, a smile breaking across his face.

“What can I say, your Spanish was just too beautiful.” Keith laughs.

“Y’know I know you meant that as an insult, amigo, but my Spanish is fantastic.” Lance grins, sitting down in the open armchair beside Keith.

“Mhm, whatever you say.”

“I’ll have you know I have scored many a date with my Cuban charm.” Lance says, winking at Keith and making him almost spit out his coffee.

“Many a date, I am sure.” Keith says, rolling his eyes and taking a sip out of his cup.

“Hey, Hunk, my best friend, buddy ol pal!” Lance says, standing and swinging his arm around Hunk’s shoulders as he stands in front of their set up with a dozen bagels, “My Spanish, drives the ladies crazy right?”

Hunk laughs, “Uh yeah sure, Lance. Hey Keith did you know that in our freshmen year Lance and I went to a bar and he got so drunk he would only respond by singing the Cuban national anth--.”

Lance slaps his hand over Hunk’s mouth, “Hunky, buddy, what part about ‘let’s never discuss what happened on National Anthem Night ever again’ was unclear?”

“Hunk laughs through Lance’s hand, “Sorry, but you had that one coming. Anyway, Keith here are your last minute bagels, as per request.”

Keith takes the bag out of Hunk’s hands, awkwardly looking down at his feet, at a loss for words, “Well, I better go. Nice to see you guys.” He awkwardly side-steps the two, making his way to the door.

As soon as the glass door closes behind him, Keith lets out a long breath. He takes a glance back at where Lance is sitting, idly sipping his coffee and grinning down at his mobile. He watches as Lance shuts off his phone, looking up and locking eyes with him. Keith quickly turns away, a blush creeping up his neck and pulls out his phone, opening up a new chat.

 

**Message to:** pidgeon

**aliens_r_real:** pidge i'm screwed  
 **aliens_r_real:** i am so screwed 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof it's been a WHILE and i am sorryyyyyy. i kept meaning to write but procrastination and school and just djdbhdbdjbdfb it's been rough couple months. i'm gonna try to update more, i promise!!!
> 
> ALSO many things have changed in the show since i began this but i'm like 64.3% i'm just going to keep things the way that are bc at the moment i'm not sure how to change things. however i would like to say how the hell did i predict keith's cut??? i must be magic? 
> 
> anyway, thank you guys so so so much for reading and bearing with my inactivity.   
> *sends virtual hugs*


	7. Chapter 7

**Message to:** aliens_r_real

 

 **all_bi_myself:** ok FIRST of all if mothman is real then y has no one seen him like like5 decades???

 **aliens_r_real:** PEOPLE COULD’VE SEEN HIM AND JUST NOT REPORTED IT

 **all_bi_myself:** IDK ABOUT U BUT IF I SAW A BIG ASS MOTH I WOULD REPORT THAT

 **aliens_r_real:** I DON’T NEED TO TAKE THIS, PIDGE WOULD NEVER DOUBT MOTHMAN

 **all_bi_myself:** PIDGE ALSO WAS CERTAIN FOR YEARS THAT THE BEATLES NEVER ACTUALLY EXISTED

 **aliens_r_real:** WELL WHO DO YOU THNK HELPED THEM WITH THE RESEARCH

 **all_bi_myself:** KEITH MCMULLET

 **all_bi_myself:** i am disappointed

 **aliens_r_real:** that is not my surname

 **all_bi_myself:** was i close?

 **aliens_r_real:** not in the slightest

 

Lance laughs lightly to himself, sliding deeper into the couch until he’s lying flat on his back, looking up as Hunk makes his way into the living room.

“Hey, just letting ya know, Pidge’ll be here in a sec, I asked them to pick up the good tomatoes while they were at Whole Foods.” he says nudging Lance’s feet as he sits down on the couch. When Lance doesn’t respond, Hunk tries again.

“What’re you all smiley about?”

“Just something Keith said.” Lance replies, not looking up to see Hunk’s eyebrows raise slightly.

“Just something Keith said, huh? Has someone gotten over their little rivalry?” Hunk says, grinning over at Lance who huffs at the remark. 

“I mean, I guess he’s okay or something.” 

There’s a rapid set of knocks at the door, and Hunk makes his way off the couch, continuing to talk as he opens the door.

“Okay or something? Seriously? Lance, buddy, I love you and all but y’know you can tell me if you like him right?”

Pidge walks in, laptop and a large paper bag in arms. They look over at Lance, flashing a grin.

“Oooh, are we talking about Keith?”

Lance sputters, narrowing his eyes as he looks over at Hunk, “I do _not_ like Keith.”                                                                                      

Pidge rolls their eyes, “Mhm, obliviousidiotwho’sdefinitelyintoKeithsayswhat?”

“What?”

“You’re too easy sometimes, I swear.” they sigh, passing the paper bag off to Hunk, who takes it in the direction of the kitchen.

“Hey!” Lance squawks at them as they begin slipping off their shoes.

“’M just saying, you guys are kinda obvious.” they say, straightening back up and making their way over to a book-littered armchair.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lance asks, eyes still narrowed as he sets down his phone on the coffee table.

“You know what it means. You and Keith have known each for what, like two weeks? Two weeks and you two are _still_ ogling at each other.”

“Okay, first of all, there has been no ogling going on. Secondly, I’ll have you know I got a girl’s number the other day.” Lance says matter of factly.

“Bully for you, you’re in denial.” Pidge deadpans, flipping open their laptop and not-breaking eye contact as they type in their password. It makes Lance want to shiver.

“Y’know what, I’m gonna call her right now.”

“Yes, please go prove my point even more.”

Lance makes a face at them, picking up his phone off the coffee table and walking to his bedroom. He hovers over the phone icon, feeling a small sliver of guilt creeping up his neck, but quickly shoves it aside.

One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings.

 

“Hi, it’s Anna! I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

 

Lance lets out the breath he was holding in, not bothering to leave a message and texts her instead. A sense of relief floods him, but he can’t quite pinpoint why.

 

_** a couple days later **_

 

Lance probably should be doing his job. He probably should be doing his job but it’s 11 at night and he’s exhausted and needs to finish his homework. So he sits atop his stool at his check-out counter, idly twirling the pen in his hand and skimming over the diagram in front of him.

He begins copying it into his notebook, trying to suppress the urge to just go home. It’s been dead in the store since 9, and he’s beginning to wonder why the store is even open this late if no one comes by. More importantly, he’s wondering why he keeps getting these late shifts. His entire afternoons are free and yet he continuously gets called in for the late shift. When exactly is he supposed to sleep in all of this?

Glancing over at the clock on the wall, he decides to call it in 30 minutes early. He takes out the bucket of cleaning supplies from the closet and mops the floors, spinning around and humming along softly to “Rocket Man” as it makes its way through the crackly speakers. Lance has known all the lyrics since he was 10, ever since his sister first played it for him. He remembers stealing the cassette from her and playing it over and over until it broke. The memory makes him smile and he wheels the bucket back into the closet as the song fades out.

At 15 minutes before midnight, Lance locks up the store, precariously balancing his textbooks in one hand as he flips the open sign around and closes the door. Blue sits quietly in the completely empty parking lot, looking worn and in Lance’s opinion, slightly dejected. He slides into the front seat, throwing his books into a haphazard heap on the floor of the passenger’s seat. He takes a brief moment to throw his head back, closing his eyes and pushing back on the headrest. He counts to five before opening his eyes and tiredly turning his key in the ignition. Silence. His brows knit together in confusion as he turns the key again. The engine lets out a small rumble before the car falls still yet again.

“Nononononono,” Lance whispers, panic starting to coat his voice, “you are not dying on me.”

He turns the key again, and the car sputters to life. Lance lets out a sigh of relief before putting the car into reverse, looking behind him as he slowly rolls backwards. Blue lets out a horrible grinding noise and Lance turns forwards, cringing as he watches smoke start to seep out from the hood of his precious Blue. Quickly he flicks off the car, throwing open the door and popping the hood. He’s met with a cloud of smoke and obliviously stares at the jumble of machinery, cursing himself for not taking an auto body class.

“Fuck.” he mutters under his breath, pulling out his phone and dialling Hunk’s number. He puts the device up to his ear and holds his breath, letting out a frustrated sigh as it goes to voicemail.

He could call Pidge, but he knows she’s busy tonight with Matt and he really doesn’t want to intrude. He would call Keith but he’d probably just laugh at him. He instead opens a new browser on his phone and quickly types ‘ _mechanic near me_ ’ into the search bar. The first option is a shop called “Coran’s” and he doesn’t even look at the hours before he’s pressing the telephone button. He just crosses his fingers and holds the phone to ear. It rings once. Twice. Thrice. Four times.

“Hello?”

“Oh fuck, thank God. I’m sorry, I know it’s late but my car just broke down and you’re the closest garage and I’m sorry b—”

“Hey, calm down, it’s fine, happens. Where’s your location, I’ll come with the tow?”

“The Comet-Mart? Do you know where that is?”

“Oh yeah, that’s just around the corner, I have a friend who works there actually. Well, not a friend per se but y’know—Never mind, it’s not important, I’m on my way.”

“Okay, thank--” the line goes dead before he finishes his sentence. Lance shoves his phone in his pocket and looks tiredly at Blue, reaching out and patting her hood with his hand.

“Y’know, this wasn’t really appreciated, Blue. I kinda wanted to go home and sleep, but whatever.” he says, pulling his phone back out of his pocket as it buzzes.

 

 **Message from:** aliens_r_real

 

 **aliens_r_real:** i regret my life decisions

 

Lance looks quizzically down at the message before smiling and quickly writing back.

 

 **all_bi_myself:** u don’t even know but explain??

 **aliens_r_real:** ok so i work at a body shop and we closed like 4 hrs ago

 **aliens_r_real:**   but i’m still here and I fucking picked up the phone like a dumbass

 **aliens_r_real:** and this guy’s car’s fucked so now i have to go tow it

 **aliens_r_real:** and i am a moron and i regret my life decisions

 

Lance puts a hand over his mouth and doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. What the hell are the odds? Seriously, what the hell are the odds?

 

 **all_bi_myself:** awe man that sucks

 **all_bi_myself:** but better hurry

 **all_bi_myself:** wouldnt wanna keep the nice man waitin ;)

 

 **aliens_r_real:** they’re at the comet-mart

 **aliens_r_real:** btw are you working tonight? maybe you see them

 

 **all_bi_myself:** was

 

Lance looks at the messages, admiring the absolute irony of it all, and patiently waits for Keith to realise it too. Three. Two. One.

 

 **aliens_r_real:** oh my god

 **aliens_r_real:** you absolute moron

 **aliens_r_real:** you’re the idiot who called, aren’t you?

 

 **all_bi_myself:** pls come get me keef

 

Lance doesn’t get a response, which he hopes means that Keith is on his way to save his ass. If not, he’s screwed. This must be what he gets for leaving early.

Karma really is a bitch.

  
  
*    * *  
  
  
Keith shows up faster than expected, letting Lance breathe out a very large sigh of relief. Lance walks to meet the tow as it pulls into the parking lot, beginning to ramble the second Keith opens the driver’s side door. 

“Oh thank Jesus, Keith. You don’t know how happy I am to see you I could just. . .” Lance’s footsteps falter and his voice dies off as he stares at Keith.

“You could just. . .” Keith looks at him, a confused look painting his features as he watches Lance try to gather himself. Which for the record, Lance is having a very hard time doing, because _damn_ , Keith looks good. Ripped black jeans with a loose white tank top tucked into them. His hair is tied out of his face and his eyes are . . . looking expectedly at Lance, because Lance stopped talking in the middle of his sentence.

“Ah sorry, I, uh, you look different.”

“A little gross and getting cold, yes.” Keith supplies, rolling his eyes as he speaks, “Forgot my jacket at my apartment and I would kinda like to go home, but someone’s car decided to break down, so here I am.” He looks at Lance with a small smirk playing across his face.

“In my defence, you were the one who actually picked up, mullet-man.”

 Keith shakes his head as he begins to hook Blue up to the truck. Lance pointedly looks away from the way his muscles flex beneath his shirt, choosing instead to look interested in the ground as he bounces up and down on his heels.

“I did pick up, which I am regretting more and more by the minute. But to be fair, I’m also saving your ass.” Keith grunts, finishing what he was doing and making his way around Blue to finish securing her.

Lance chances a glance up to see Keith struggling with a carabineer, eventually taking his hands off to blow hot air on them. Without thinking, Lance walks over to the passenger’s side of the car, swinging open the door and leaning into the back. He emerges, Keith looking at him, clearly puzzled.

“Here.” Lance tosses over the sweatshirt, Keith catching it on reflex then looking down at it. He looks back up at Lance, eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion.

“You looked cold. You can just give it back to me next time we see each other, seriously, it’s all good.” Lance shrugs, closing the car door and putting his hands in his pockets.

Keith mumbles a small thanks before pulling it over his head. The sweatshirt is one of Lance's favourites: grey, with large red letters spelling out ‘ALTEA UNIVERSITY’. Keith makes paws out of the overly-long sleeves and goes back to work, completely oblivious to the tall boy short-circuiting next to him.

Lance looks anywhere but at Keith as he hooks up Blue, which proves to be a tad difficult with Keith moving around constantly and the parking lot being mostly empty. He has to admit, though, it's oddly calming, the dark, deserted parking lot, a faint light coming from the tow truck's interior. His eyes are brought back to the truck as he hears Keith opening the door and motioning for Lance to get in. Lance follows, sliding into the passenger’s seat with a small grunt and settling back into the worn seat.

“So,” Lance supplies, trying his best to be a decent conversationalist, “care to tell me why you were still mechanic-ing at midnight?"

Keith huffs a small sigh before shifting slightly to look at Lance, “To be perfectly honest, I’ve had some not great things on my mind lately. I needed a distraction, fixing cars seemed to do it for today. This too.” he finishes, gesturing to the back of the truck where Blue is.

“Well damn, I’m sorry.” Lance says, surprised by how much he actually means it, “I get it though, kinda. School’s been taking a bit of a toll on me, especially with these shifts, I barely sleep anymore.”

Keith brow furrows for a moment, “Why don’t you quit then? I mean I know next to nothing about you and I get needing money and all that, but there’re other ways to make money that don’t involve getting racoon eyes.”

"My favourite colour is red."

"What?"

"You said you knew next to nothing about me. So, there you go, my favourite colour is red." 

"That's your takeaway? I say quit your job and you tell me your favourite colour?"

"Yep."

Keith shakes his head in moderate disbelief, "You're ridiculous," a small pause, "mine's blue."

 

*    * *

 

When they pull into the garage’s parking lot, it’s empty, aside from the motorcycle parked by the door. Keith flicks the car off, hopping out of the truck and making a beeline for Blue. Lance follows him, his hands in his pocket as he watches Keith unhook his quite dead-looking car. Once unhooked, Lance opens the passenger’s door and grabs his textbooks, piling them in his arms.

When he closes the door, he sees Keith walking over to his bike. About halfway, his steps falter and he turns around to look at Lance.

“You don’t have a ride do you?”        

“Oh fuck, you’re right.” Lance groans, fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket, not quite sure who to call.

“If you want, um, I could give you a ride. I mean, it’s late.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Uh, yeah, if you’re okay with it.”

Lance grins, walking over to Keith, “Mullet-man saves the day yet again.”

Keith gives him a small smile in return, walking to his bike and tosses him a helmet. Lance catches it with his fingertips, awkwardly setting his belongings down to pile his books into his bag. He stands, slinging his bag over both shoulders and slips the helmet over his head. Keith is leaning against the bike, waiting for him.

“All set?”

“Yes, but where’s your helmet?”

“On your head.”

“I cannot stand idly by and watch as you put yourself in such danger. As a human being with a brain, I refuse to ride with someone who doesn’t—”

“Lance, do you want a ride or not?”

Lance nods, walking over to the bike and awkwardly mounting it behind Keith, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

“Lance?”

“Yes?”

“You kinda gotta put your hands on my waist for this to work.”

“Oh, of course.” Lance says, tentatively placing his fingertips gently on Keith’s hips.

Keith sighs, grabbing Lance’s hands and placing them so that they’re secured around his waist. He starts the bike with a load roar before glancing back at Lance.

“Isn’t this a little clos—” Lance is promptly cut off with a loud yelp as the bike lurches forward and he clings to Keith for dear life, chest firmly flushed to Keith’s back as they fly through the night. Lance feels the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he watches the lights of cars pass by in awe.

  
*    * * 

 

They pull into Lance’s apartment building in what feels like seconds. Lance revels in the way the adrenaline still continues to prickle his skin, even after he gets off the bike.

Keith looks over at him with an expression Lance can’t quite read, “Sorry you couldn’t go home in your actual car.”

Lance shakes his head dismissively, removing his helmet as he talks, “It’s okay. Thanks for coming, I would’ve been kinda screwed if you hadn’t picked up.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine.”

The silence that follows feels slightly heavy, something unknown hanging in the air. Lance chooses to brush it off.

“Your cut looks better.” he supplies awkwardly, pointing to his own jaw when Keith looks at him quizzically.

Keith reaches up on his own face, his mouth frowning slightly when he realises what Lance is referencing.

“Yeah, I guess. Shiro’s worried it’s gonna scar over, though. He even bought an aloe plant, doubt I’ll use it though.”

“Ah yes, I forgot, you’re a wannabe bad boy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith snaps, although there’s no malice to it.

“Oh come on,” Lance grins, “The mullet, the cool bike, the nonchalant attitude towards scaring. Hell, the only thing missing is the weirdly symbolic gang tattoo.”

“You think my bike is cool?”

“I don’t recall saying anything of the sort.”

Keith huffs out a small laugh, making Lance’s face heat. He blames it on the cold, attempting to shove down the warm feeling fizzling around his chest. It doesn’t work in the slightest.

"I should probably get going.”

Lance nods, hooking his thumbs into the straps of his backpack. A small part of him doesn’t want him to leave. A very small, _very_ platonic feeling, part of him.

“Thanks for saving my ass.”

“Anytime. Night, Lance.”

Lance gives him a small wave, watching as the bike pulls out of the parking lot and into the night. Letting out a long breath, Lance turns around, beginning to make his way towards his apartment.

   
*    * *

 

 **Message from:** aliens_r_real

 

 **aliens_r_real:** fuck 

 **aliens_r_real:** i forgot to give you back your sweatshirt

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I'm currently on winter holiday at the moment and have some time on my hands, so I'm hoping to get at least one more chapter out before I have to go back to school. Fingers crossed!
> 
> In regards to the fic itself, I am quite happy with how this chapter came out: lots of bonding for my boychicks and all the good stuff. Although Voltron is now officially over, I do still plan on writing fanfic for it (too many ideas not to); however, I may be adding some other fandoms into the mix :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhhhh this is so exciting!  
> I have recently begun a descent into Voltron hell and I've been wanting to start a series, so two birds with one stone, right?  
> Anyways, I've had this idea for a while and finally decided to not be lazy and write the first chapter. Go me, right? The chapter was pretty short because I just wanted to introduce the scene at the front of the convenience store, since most of the story revolves around it-ish. From here on out though, expect longer chapters.  
> Also, the other characters are coming, and will mostly be there in the next chapter or the one following that :)  
> This hasn't been proofread and I wrote this very late at night so if anything is awkward or seriously misspelled, please let me know!  
> Also please tell me what you think of this, this is my first time writing an actual series so I am still learning.  
> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
